Every Skyline
by kathillards
Summary: And then a boy falls out of the sky. —- Emma and stars and wars and wanting.


**notes:** so a while back, an anon reviewed one of my troy/emma fics and beseeched me not to ever write an emma/orion (as i had expressed interest in it) because "don't you writers get it? a sky element and a super silver element are never a match or a couple, you knew that, so please forget about it."

i don't like to be told what to do. so, anon, this is for you.

and here is the end result: almost seven thousand words of second-person introspective character study on emma goodall, the love of my life and also orion's life. be warned that i played fast and loose with megaforce canon characterization and backstories since...we have none. so i made it up.

i hope you all enjoy, and please drop me a review if you do!

* * *

 **and every skyline was like a kiss upon the lips**

 _meanwhile a man was falling from space  
and every day i wore your face  
like an atmosphere around me  
i'm happy you're beside me_

— florence + the machine

-:-

You've been watching the stars for as long as you can remember.

You used to sit out in the backyard with your mother and let her sing you songs as you watched the airplanes rush through a backdrop of pinprick diamonds the color of your world – silver and shimmering and stunning. She would laugh and braid your hair and tell you stories about all the people who lived up in the stars and on the moon, people with magic and people with smiles. People who mattered.

You wanted nothing more than to matter. To be among the stars, to run through the sky like an airplane. To have a story to tell.

And then your mother died, and that mattered.

Your father doesn't care for the outdoors, and so, you stop watching the stars. You stop waiting. You stop wondering.

-:-

At a sleepover when you are ten and trying not to be tired of the world – the world of endless condolences and the old lady from across the street baking you cookies every day because she thinks you're sad and people dropping their voices when they talk about your mother – Gia suggests stargazing.

"No," you say quickly, too quickly. "It's too hot outside. Let's stay here."

Gia looks at you oddly. "But we have a tent we can set up in the backyard – "

She doesn't understand. The stars belong to you and your mother. The songs you can share, because she sang for others, but the stars, the stories…those are yours. You keep them cradled in your heart and you've stopped wearing that on your sleeve since the day you watched them lower her coffin into the ground.

You shake your head and say, "No. We can play a game inside," and Gia shrugs and agrees, and you never go stargazing.

But sometimes, you catch the sight of them outside your window – bright and silver and golden and brilliant – and you wish so desperately to reach them that it hurts.

-:-

Noah knows about stars. Not your stars, not your mother's stars, but _stars_. He knows the names of the constellations, he knows the types of stars, he knows what black holes and supernovas and asteroids are. He knows _science_.

He doesn't, you think, know _hearts_. Because stars have hearts, like everything has a heart, from people to plants to the stories your mother sang to you out underneath the night sky. Noah knows facts, but he doesn't know friends.

He's sad when you meet him, and you don't like people being sad. Sadness is contagious, and you have enough sadness for twelve years already. So you walk up to him at lunchtime and ask him to tell you about stars.

He says, "Most of the stars we see in the sky are already dead," and it hits you in the gut, but it's refreshing. He doesn't know about your mother's death, he just moved to town a month ago. He doesn't tip-toe around the d word, he doesn't try to spare your feelings because he doesn't know he should.

You smile at him and say, "But that means some are alive."

He considers this carefully. "Yes," he agrees. "That means some are alive."

"Then that's enough," you tell him. "That's enough to go on."

And it is. He doesn't know it, but it is.

-:-

For the longest time, it's just the three of you, and it's enough. Your father has work, but you have Gia and Noah, so it's okay. You have other friends, but Gia knows you best and Noah needs you most, so you stay with the two of them, and the days turn into weeks turn into months and soon you're almost forgetting the anniversary of your mother's death.

But you don't. Gia doesn't, either. She comes over to your house with cupcakes from the bakery and board games and Noah behind her. Your dad is working late, so you let them in.

"I thought we should have a slumber party, just the three of us," Gia says. "Do you still have our old sleeping bags?"

"I don't think we still fit in them," you say, but you dig them out anyway because nostalgia is better than tears. Noah ends up taking the couch, and you and Gia have to sleep in your bed because you've all grown too much for sleeping bags, but you sit on them for hours and talk and play games.

"What was your mother like?" Noah finally asks around midnight as the anniversary fades into yesterday, into another memory you'll keep in your heart like you're hoarding gold.

Gia goes to shush him, but you shake your head. It's a good question. You have to think about it.

"She was…she was like a princess. She would sing songs for me and tell me stories. She would bake us sweets and she never ran out of love, not ever. I wanted to be just like her when I grew up."

"You're growing up now," Noah points out. "So be like her. That's how you keep people alive inside you, even when they're gone."

You stare at him and wonder who he's lost. He looks at you but doesn't offer, so you don't ask. Instead, you give him the last cupcake.

It's not a lot, but it's enough. Slowly, you think, Noah is learning about hearts, the same way you are.

-:-

The first day of high school, and Gia finds you at lunchtime to hold your hand as you brave the world of teenagers and cliques and parties together. Noah is running late with his honors science class, so it's just the two of you, just like old times, off to face the world and fight the monsters.

"High school is gonna be great," Gia assures you as the two of you find seats somewhere in the mess. "Are you doing okay?"

"I'm doing great," you say, and it's mostly a truth. You're always doing great. Your mother would always look on the bright side of everything, and so will you. "I like the teachers so far."

Gia makes a face. "I got Mr. Whitehall for math and he has the most boring voice imaginable," she tells you, and you're about to ask how math could possibly be _not_ boring when Noah interrupts.

"Hey, guys," he says, and when you look up, there's another boy standing next to him. "This is Jake, he moved from the other school district over to here. Can he sit with us?"

"Of course," you say immediately, before Gia can refuse – she's protective, and she dislikes new people entering her circles without prior approval. It took her weeks to get used to Noah, and that was when she was twelve.

You think it's also because she looks out for you, has ever since your mother died, and doesn't want anything to upset the balance you've created in the wake of her death. It's you and your father and quiet nights at home and then going out for ice cream or pizza with Gia and Noah in the daytime and now there's high school and life is pretty simple.

Life is pretty nice. So, you smile at Jake and let him sit next to you even as Gia watches him critically, and you ask him how he likes the school and he seems nice. Life could always use more nice things.

-:-

"I think Jake has a crush on me," Gia says one afternoon at your house, as the two of you work on homework side by side. "He keeps trying to ask me out or go places with me. It's weird."

You stare at your homework, stumped. Not because of the reading questions, those are easy, but because of Gia. And Jake. And Gia and Jake. The idea sits oddly in your head.

"Why is it weird?" you finally ask. "Do you not like him?"

Gia makes a face. "I mean, I like him. As a friend. But he's making it weird and friendship shouldn't be weird."

You shrug, putting your head in your arms on the table and abandoning your English homework entirely. "If you don't like him like that, just tell him. Don't drag it out."

"But," she sighs, "you're so much better at being nice than me."

You don't think that's true. Gia is nice, she just pretends she isn't. You don't know if you're really nice, or if you're just pretending to be because you think that's what your mother would have wanted. As you get older, it's harder to tell what your mother would have wanted.

You're starting to forget her voice, too.

You pick up your pen and say, casually, "I was thinking about joining the choir."

Gia's gaze is sharp on your back as you return to work. She knows about the songs. She knows more about you and your mother than anyone else on the planet, not even your father. Sometimes, you wish she didn't. Sometimes, you wish she didn't know at all, so you wouldn't have to feel guilty whenever there are moments like this. Moments when you're both thinking of a woman who died six years ago.

"You have an amazing voice," she says finally. "You should do it."

You smile at her and think that it's a good thing, in the end, that Gia knows. That Gia knows everything, and that Gia knows you. You don't think there's anyone else you would rather be your best friend.

-:-

You can't decide if Troy is a nice thing for the longest time, and by extension, you can't decide if being a superhero is a nice thing, either. Certainly, the morpher and the outfit and the saving the world part _feel_ nice, but so do the cookies that Mrs. Willenberry used to bake for you every day and they were because of a sad thing.

You think maybe Troy is a sad thing, too. He gets this look in his eyes sometimes, like he's haunted. Like he's lost something. You think maybe everybody has lost something and some people just carry it better than others.

You know this: Gia's parents divorced when she was eleven and now she has a big empty house filled with memories and somebody else's life. You know this: Noah lost his father when he was young and now he reads books about robots and science and the future because the past is too painful to contemplate. You know this: Jake has an older brother who went off to fight in a war and now it's been five years since he's come home.

You don't know what Troy's story is, but you know yours, and you think, at the heart of it all, they're the same.

Maybe that's what makes you gravitate towards him – the lonely leader of a group of lonely kids who found the answer to their loneliness in each other. He needs a nice thing, too.

-:-

Jake pulls you aside one day at school and murmurs, "I found out Troy's birthday is this weekend, we should do something, right?"

"Yes," you say immediately. "Of course. What were you thinking?"

"I have no idea what he likes," he admits. "Maybe we could have a picnic in the park?"

"Great idea," you say, "I'll tell Gia," but Jake's jaw shifts and you stop. "Unless…you want to tell Gia?"

He flushes, but shakes his head. "No, that's okay. I'll get Noah. We'll get the food, you guys get the games?"

"Jake," you say, stopping him with a hand on his arm. "You should talk to Gia more. Be her friend before you try to be anything else. It makes a difference."

He stares at you uncertainly. "I just get nervous around her," he admits. "Sometimes, I think I stand a chance and then sometimes it's like…why am I even trying, you know?"

You think about Gia, tall and pretty and intimidating, and you think about Troy, equally all three, and you think about that mask he wears, the way he keeps his guard up all the time, the way he fights like he's defending something precious.

You think about your own something precious – stars and stories and friendships you keep inside your heart to warm you in the rainy days and months and years – and think about how sometimes, it feels like you're getting through to him, and sometimes, it doesn't feel that way at all.

"If you care about something," you say slowly, "you don't give up on it."

But you gave up on your stars and you forgot your mother's stories. Jake smiles at you and walks away, and you're left staring at the back of a boy who can take the advice you never did.

In the group text conversation, you write, _Let's go stargazing_.

-:-

"Hey," Troy says the night of his birthday picnic, sitting down on a bench next to you as the others play frisbee under the stars. "Thanks for this."

You look at him, at the hint of a smile on his face. It's not much, but it's something. "It was Jake's idea," you tell him, but he shakes his head.

"This is hard for you, isn't it?" he asks, and you stare at him, startled. "I'm sorry, I know I don't know you very well – any of you very well, but…I could tell. You smile like you've lost something. Or someone."

It's exactly the words you'd thought about him. "I have," you reply. "I mean – I mean, yeah. I have."

"Your mother?" he guesses, and you remember that you'd told him about that the day he found you singing in the meadow. "I lost mine, too. That's why I moved here, actually. To live with my aunt and uncle."

That's more pieces of Troy Burrows' life than you've ever gotten in one conversation before. "No dad?" you finally manage to ask, casually.

He shrugs. "Never knew him. Left before I was born. You?"

"Works all the time," you say with a wry smile. "Cares about me but…not enough."

"No," he agrees. "It's never enough. I bet he misses your mom, too."

You haven't thought about that. Or, you have, but you've forced yourself not to. It's hard enough missing your mom, but it'd be harder still to miss a father you wanted to have instead of the one you do have.

"It's okay," you tell him. "I have you guys. I have the whole world to save. I have so much."

Troy smiles at you, properly, but sadly. You look up at the stars and your mind echoes with his words. _It's never enough_. And Noah, all those years ago: _That's how you keep people alive inside of you_. And Jake, telling you about his brother: _I miss him, and I wish I didn't have to_.

And Gia, every year on the day your mother died: _I'll always be here for you, Emma._

It's not much, but it's something. You hold onto somethings, and that's how you keep people alive within you. So you reach out and take Troy's hand, and the two of you sit and watch the stars together and wait for something you don't know is ever coming.

-:-

The day the sky breaks and the monsters attack, you think it's over. This is it, this is your grand finale, the epic climax to every story your mother has ever told you, and it begins and ends with the monsters under your bed and the stars evaporated and the whole world plunging into darkness.

You find Gia's hand, and you run.

At the end of the day, you get new powers and new abilities and new confidence, and you win the battle, but the war looms heavy over you, sits hard on your heart. It's like all your precious stories are rattling around in your chest, banging against your ribcage, making you remember and relive the terror of the sky that day. Twisting and warping into the shapes of monsters. Haunting you.

You go home and go out into your backyard and you sit in the same spot you used to sit with your mother and you look up at the stars and try to breathe.

At some point, you lose track of all the stars you've watched, all the clouds floating across the sky, all the stories you've given to all the pinpricks of light in the night sky. Your head feels like a seastorm and your stomach feels like lead but you keep counting the stars, counting the stories, counting the moments of peace. Counting friends. Counting rangers. Counting legacies.

Counting monsters.

Around two in the morning, your father finds you still outside. He looks tired, but he comes with two cups of coffee and offers you one as he sits down besides you. Neither of you say anything, just drink your coffee in silence.

Then, he says, quietly, "I miss her, too."

Troy's words, come back to haunt you. For a moment, you just stare down into your coffee, feeling the tears well up in your throat and behind your eyes. You don't have anything to say. Sometimes, the world gives you everything instead of something, and you can't handle it.

"I'm scared," you whisper finally.

"Me, too," he admits. "I thought at first we should move but…the entire planet is under attack. I don't know what to do."

You laugh, a little helplessly, and dash a tear from your cheeks. "Mom would know what to do."

He smiles sadly. "Mom knew everything," he agrees. "I know what she would say, too."

You look at him curiously. "What?"

"She would say to trust in each other, and trust in the power rangers," he says simply. "She wasn't the type to give up hope. She would believe in heroes till the end, and if it came to that, she would fight, too."

You sit very still, feeling your breathing even out slowly as your father talks. He doesn't stop, going on to talk about all the stories your mother had told him, different stories from the ones she'd told you, but the same at heart. Stories of heroes and monsters and the world. Stories of good and evil and humans. Stories about love.

Your mother would believe in you, you think. She _did_ believe in you.

And you believe, too. You believe in Troy and Gia and Jake and Noah. And you believe in yourself.

"Thanks, Dad," you say finally, and he looks at you like maybe he knows what you're really thanking him for. For the courage, for the hope. For the reminder that you can be brave, that you can stand and fight. That you can give hope to people, the way your mother did.

That you can win, and even if you don't win, at least you'll know that you died fighting. Isn't that all any hero could ever ask for?

-:-

So, you fight. And the world turns on, and the monsters fall back. You take new stars and tuck them inside of you, making new stories, ones where the heroes are pirates and the sky is full of monsters and slowly, slowly, they bring the stars back to the light.

And then a boy falls out of the sky.

-:-

His name is Orion, the same as a constellation. Your mother used to tell you his story: a hunter loved a goddess, and died for it. You never liked that story much, always found it too sad.

Orion's story is sad, too.

You used to think it was bad enough to have lost a mother, a father, a brother. To have lost innocence, to have lost love. But Orion – he has lost everything, and still he goes on.

You don't understand him. All that time being lonely, you think it would have killed you. At least you had Gia. At least you had Noah and Jake and Troy. Orion had nobody.

"But now I have you," he says when you ask him about it, simple as those reading questions that used to be the highlight of your evening. "I have a reason to fight. I have a war to finish. I have people to save."

You bury your head in your hands and think about your mother. "I just – how do you put it in perspective so easily?"

He offers you a smile when you look up. "It takes a lot of time," he admits. "I spent so long hating myself, wondering why I survived and they didn't. Why the world chose me. I knew I had to fight, but I always wished I didn't."

Jake's words, back again: _I miss him, and I wish I didn't_. It was the saddest you'd ever seen him, talking about his brother. He still hasn't come back from war, and now Jake is fighting a new one. Life plays cruel tricks like that, you think.

Maybe Orion joining their team is another cruel trick. Losing everyone he ever loved just so he could find the five of them. It doesn't seem fair at all.

"I wish I could be like you," you confess, thinking of how he looked, shining and silver the first day you saw him. Like a star on earth. Like the answer to a prayer you'd been saying every day since you lost your mother. Like the sky.

Orion snorts. "Why? I wish I could be like _you_. I want to care about things besides revenge, besides the people I've lost. I want to feel at peace."

"I'm not at peace," you protest, finding this an odd sentiment. You're the least at peace you've ever been. It's been so many long years since the days you sat outside with your mother and watched the stars.

"Maybe not on the outside," he says with a shrug. "But on the inside, I think you've found it. In your friends, in your power. With yourself. You might not realize it yet, but you will someday."

You look at him in bemusement, amazement, confusion. He smiles at you and offers a cookie. He has a nice smile, you think. It kind of makes your insides feel all floaty.

It occurs to you that, like you and Troy and everyone else, Orion's story might be sad but he – he is not a sad thing. He is a nice thing. You like to keep those when you can.

-:-

The Armada is winning. The Armada is winning and you are losing and it's been two years of endless fighting and battles and destruction and all you can think these days is, _I'm tired._ You are so, so tired. Your world is a warzone and the stars don't shine anymore.

Some days, you dream of taking the ship up to the sky and shooting down every Armada spaceship blocking your view to the stars. You dream of destroying them, decimating them so they can never bother you on Earth anymore. You dream of winning, of falling in love, of being happy again.

You wonder what it means that your happy ending these days means more death, more destruction, more fighting. But this is a war and you are a soldier.

You never wanted to be a soldier.

-:-

Jake looks tired, too. You all do, but him the most. You wonder if he's thinking of his brother every time he draws a blaster on a monster. Of his brother, of guns and blood, of death. Or if he's thinking of Gia and how his biggest problem just two years ago was trying to ask a pretty girl out on a date.

You go to his house one day after a monster attack and find it quiet and empty, him alone in the kitchen, watching the news of the day's attacks. He looks exhausted. You know the feeling.

"Want some food?" he offers when he sees you standing. "I don't think Mom has stopped cooking since Jonathan left."

Six years, now. His brother has been at war for six years, and you for two. Your heart feels fragile just standing in the room that Jonathan Holling had stood in, once.

You let him find you a sandwich and sit next to him at the kitchen counter, watching the footage of your fight today. The monster swinging at the megazord. The final strike. The victory. The tired, tired triumph.

"I hate it," he says abruptly, and you look at him, but don't ask. You don't need to. He goes on, "I hate fighting. We're kids. We shouldn't be fighting a war."

"If we don't, who will?" you ask softly.

Jake frowns at the TV. "There are twenty years of power rangers before us. Where are they? Why aren't they helping?"

"I'm sure they're fighting wherever they are," you say, but your voice shakes and your head feels uneasy. All the monsters are in Harwood, but where are all the heroes? You've asked yourself this a thousand times, just the same as Jake. "They'll come when we need them. They _have_ come when we needed them."

"When do we not need them?" he asks bitterly. "I want to go back to high school and not fear for my life, Emma. I want to go on a goddamn date with a girl I like and not worry about her _dying_ or _me_ dying or my _best friends_ dying every fucking day. When is it over?"

"I don't know," you admit, and he falls silent. The thought settles like a dark cloud over both your heads. Maybe it will never be over.

Maybe you'll be fighting forever.

-:-

Orion finds you at night after a particularly hard-earned victory, after Corinth, after seeing other worlds. Other stars. Different stories. It makes you feel small, so you curl up under a tree in your favorite park and try to remember that the world isn't too big to save.

"Thought I'd find you here," he says, sinking down to the grass beside you. "Feeling okay?"

You give him a tired smile. It's all you have these days. "We just walked ten miles back home, so I'm feeling great, how about you?"

He laughs, nudges your shoulder with his. "Don't be bitter, Emma. Things could be worse." His face darkens for a moment, and you think he knows more about being bitter than any of you. "Things could always be worse."

You prop your head up on your knees, hugging your legs to your chest. "But they could be better, too," you argue, and you're thinking of a conversation, years ago in a different playground, with a different boy, and you on the other side: _But that means some are alive_.

Orion shrugs. "It's up to us to make them better, right? I thought things would never get better after I lost everyone, but they did. I worked for it, and they did. I found you guys."

"How can you think we can make up for your entire planet?" you burst out, suddenly frustrated. "Your entire _world_ , Orion – we're just five people. How can you – "

"But you're not five people," he interrupts softly. "You're twenty each. Twenty years of legacy. You're pink twenty times over. That means something."

"What does it mean?" you ask, confused.

He smiles and shifts his wrist, making his morpher catch in the light. "When I was hearing the voices of all those sixth rangers back home…it made me feel – different. Good different. Like I belonged somewhere. And you have that, too. You have twenty years of belonging. Don't you feel it, Emma?"

You don't. You've never heard voices like Orion or had magical dreams like Troy. You've never had anything special except your mother and some stars. You're not special.

"I'm not special," you echo your thoughts, and he looks at you like you've grown a second head. "I'm just a girl who likes pink."

"Even if that's all you were," he says, "that would be enough."

You don't know if he's right, but he feels right. It feels right, to be beside him. He lets you put your head on his shoulder and the two of you sit and watch the stars go by over the world you have to save.

-:-

When Robo Knight dies, it kind of feels like the world is collapsing. Your life shatters, splits in two, the way it did when your mother died. _Before_ and _after_. You're in the Command Center on a Tuesday afternoon, and a hero is dead. It imprints in your mind like an unwanted tattoo.

It feels like the sky is falling again. It feels like heartbreak.

You don't know what to do. Nobody knows what to do. Troy turns away from the dimmed key and for the first time in months, his face is closed off again. Back to Troy before he'd found friends. Back to Troy when all he'd known was loss.

You can feel yourself doing the same, shrinking down and curling up into a version of yourself that is less, less a hero, less a pink, less important. Less the girl you are now – the girl Orion says is at peace.

But Orion isn't here, and you are nothing close to peace.

You don't matter. Robo Knight was a star, was a story, was a tragedy. You have always been a backdrop.

Tonight, you are a backdrop to somebody else's hero's journey. Somebody else's epic climax. Somebody else's sacrifice.

-:-

Seeing Orion again, lying asleep in the cradle of the sea, it feels like breathing fresh air for the first time in years. Like you've never known relief until this moment. The five of you collapse into the sand at his side, helping him up, watching him awaken. Your heart is criss-crossed with grief and joy, but you can't think about that now, can't think about loss, about death.

You have all lost people. This is one more notch in your heart, but at least Orion is alive. At least you didn't lose two people in one day.

"Hey," he murmurs, when he's awake and all six of you are sitting, exhausted, on the beach, listening to each other's breathing, "are you okay? What happened?"

The words are aimed at everyone, but he's looking at you, the tear tracks on your cheeks, the way your hands are shaking as you hold onto his arm. You don't know what to say.

Noah speaks first. "Robo Knight…sacrificed himself." Troy looks down. Jake and Gia don't look at each other. Orion stares at you for a moment, then closes his eyes.

"Oh," he breathes. "I know. He died trying to save me."

A sob chokes your throat, but you don't let it out. It's not fair. It's not fair a million times over. Robo Knight shouldn't have died. He shouldn't have had to die to save Orion. Orion shouldn't have this on his shoulders, too. This new loss, this new sacrifice, this new survivor's guilt. And Robo Knight should still be here.

 _War isn't fair_ , Jake told you once. _It takes and takes and it never gives back. There's no victory in war. There's no coming back to the person you were before._

The six of you sit there in the light of the fading sun, lonely but not alone, never alone, as the waves crash onto the shore and the stars come out to shine.

You look at them, your best friends, your family, your team. You look at them and you think you will never know them as they are today ever again.

 _There's no coming back to the person you were before._

-:-

The first victories are hollow, and you think it's because you know they're not real. They're not the end of the line. They're not the end of anything, just the beginning. Just the first wave. But you smile and you celebrate and you try to believe because your mother would want you to believe, but then Orion says he's going to leave.

He tells you first, because you run into him in the Command Center first. "I'm going home in a week," and you stop because it sounds a lot like he said, _I'm leaving you_.

"Why?" you ask, but he doesn't answer because then Gia and Noah teleport in, then Jake and Troy, and then he tells you all together and your moment becomes theirs, too.

"I'm going to try to rebuild," he says. "Salvage what I can. Now that the fight's over…"

 _It's not_ , you want to scream but you don't. _It's not over, we haven't won, stay, stay, stay._ But your words die in your throat and your lips are dry and soon everyone is hugging him and planning out goodbyes.

You stay behind. It's Noah who catches your eye and pulls back to see you.

"Are you okay?" he asks quietly, and you shake your head because when are you ever okay? When have you ever been okay? You're fighting a war you don't know how to win and every day the end grows closer and you don't know what to do. None of you know what to do.

"It just feels like we're losing," you say, and you mean to add _everyone_ to the end, but you don't. You think Noah understands anyway. He squeezes your hand. Across the aisle, Robo Knight's key remains unlit and lifeless.

 _There is no victory in war._

-:-

You kiss Orion goodbye and watch him leave, flying off into space until he's just another dot on the horizon, just another star in your sky. Another story with an ending you never liked. Another tragedy.

"You okay?" Gia asks as the five of you turn to walk back, and you don't know how to tell her that you're sick of the question and you're sick of the answer and you want to _stop_. You want to _breathe_. You want to _live_.

"I'll be okay," you say, and it's only half a lie. It's the same thing you've been saying since your mother died. Some days, it's more true than others.

-:-

When the last battle comes, you think you are ready for it. Like you've been expecting it. Like your whole life has been leading to this moment. Like there's a little girl worlds away watching the stars with her mother and being prepared to be offered up on the guillotine of war some day.

Like it's just you and the colors of the sky and the evil on the ground. You draw your sword, and you fight.

-:-

Orion comes back. That helps, a little. He and Troy go off on a suicide mission. That doesn't help much. But you continue to fight, you and Gia and Jake and Noah, the four of you like it's the first day of high school all over again, only this time the teachers are monsters and the classes are warzones and the whole world is counting on you to win.

And you have to win. You can't see any other option beyond the skies filled with shipwrecks and the planet filled with fire. Win or _win_. There's no choice to lose. You fight or you die.

In the beginning, there is just you, and stars, and a war looming in the distance. In the middle, it is you and Gia and Jake and Noah, hands clutching a weapon made of all four of you, the power fading away until it is just you four and the enemy and the victory coming up above the horizon.

In the end, it is the six of you and a hundred more, every ranger ever on Earth standing against the Armada, a legacy you never dreamed you could be a part of blazing at your back.

"Ready?" Troy says and for the first time in a long time, you really do feel ready.

-:-

Afterwards, when you feel kind of tired and happy and empty all at once, you find yourself back in your garden – your father's out and your mother's gone, just like old times, but now, it feels different. It feels full, it feels light. It feels like coming home and not missing a place you used to belong.

It feels like remembering how to breathe. For the longest time, you sit there and watch the stars and don't think about the war, the battles, the deaths, the danger. You don't think about how your mother is gone, how Robo Knight is gone, how broken and damaged your team is. You don't think about the sad things because tonight – tonight was a nice thing.

Tonight, you saved the world. You deserve to celebrate.

It takes two hours before anyone comes to find you, which is nice. You'd expected Gia or maybe one of the boys, but least of all Orion, who shows up with frozen yogurt and a smile on his face.

"How're you doing?" he asks as you accept the yogurt – strawberry, your favorite. "I haven't seen you in a while."

You smile. "Better," you say honestly. "I'm doing better. How are you?"

Orion grins at you. "Better," he echoes. "A lot better. I finally feel at peace, you know?"

You do know. He's been saying it for months but tonight is the first time you have allowed yourself to actually feel at peace. "Are you gonna go back home now?"

He shrugs. "Eventually. I want to rebuild but…I missed Earth a lot. I missed you guys a lot, too."

"We missed you, too," you say, nudging his shoulder with yours, and he smiles at you and then he says –

"Do you wanna come with me?"

Your heart jumps. "What?"

"Do you wanna come with me?" he repeats, this time slower. "When I go back home – there's room in my spaceship, and of course, you wouldn't stay long, I don't know, you could just…see where I'm from. It would be nice."

You look up at the sky. A million stars, a million stories. For once, you are one of them.

"That _would_ be nice," you agree. "I would love to."

Orion smiles at you like you hung the sun. It feels nice. Tonight – tonight has been nice.

-:-

Andresia is a different world, a whole new galaxy, a beautiful slice of stardust. It's desolate and lonely and heartwrenching, but you stand on its sand and breathe in its air and imagine this as someone's home – Orion's home – and Earth as just another star.

It's breathtaking. You love every minute of it.

On the highest mountain on his world, Orion takes you to see the stars of his galaxy, watching his moon spin around, the tides crashing on the shore. It's so much like home, and yet so different. You balance on the cliff edge and feel happy. Your mother would have laughed to see you here today.

"Hey, Emma?" he asks softly, late into the night, his voice echoing in the emptiness of the planet.

"Yeah?" you ask, turning to him out of habit.

Orion smiles at you. "I'm glad you're here."

Your heart flutters in your chest. "I'm glad you're here, too," you say, and then you lean up to kiss him like you have wanted to do for so long, hands and lips and tongues and the feeling of flying. He curls his arms around you, holds you tight so you don't fall off the edge of his world, and kisses you like you're the heroine of a love story.

And maybe you are. Maybe you're the heroine you've been searching for in the stars your whole life. And maybe – just maybe – this is where you were always meant to end up.

Kissing Orion is something that matters. He is something that matters. And you matter. And this is a story that matters.

* * *

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